The Passage(356)

“Well, I think it’s crazy,” Sara cut in. She raised her face to the others. “Don’t you see what this is? No one will say it, but I will. It’s evil. How many millions died because of what’s in that box? I can’t believe we’re even talking about this. I say put it in the fire.”

“You may be right, Sara,” Peter said. “But I don’t think we can afford to do nothing. Babcock and the Many may be dead, but the rest of the Twelve are still out there. We’ve seen what Lish can do, what Amy can do. The virus came to us for a reason, the same way Amy came to us. We can’t turn our backs on that now.”

“It could kill you, Peter. Or worse.”

“I’m willing to take that risk. And it didn’t kill Lish.”

Sara turned to Hollis. “Tell him. Please, tell him how completely insane this is.”

But Hollis shook his head. “I’m sorry. I think I’m with Peter on this.”

“You can’t mean that.”

“He’s right. There has to be a reason.”

“Why can’t the fact that we’re all alive be the reason?”

He reached for her hand. “It’s not enough, Sara. So we’re alive. What then? I want to have a life with you. A real life. No lights or walls, no standing the Watch. Maybe that’s for someone else, someday. Probably it is. But I can’t say no to what Peter’s asking, not while there’s a chance. And deep down, I don’t think you can either.”

“So we’ll fight them anyway. We’ll find the rest of the Twelve and fight them. As ourselves, as people.”

“And we will. I promise you. That will never change.”

Sara fell silent; Peter felt an understanding pass between them. By the time Hollis broke his gaze away, Peter knew what his friend was going to say.

“If this works, I’ll go next.”

Peter glanced at Sara. But he saw no more arguments there; she had accepted this.

“You don’t have to do that, Hollis.”

The big man shook his head. “I’m not doing it for you. If you want me to agree, that’s how it has to be. Take it or leave it.”

Peter turned to Greer, who nodded. Then he directed his eyes to his brother. Theo was sitting on a log on the far side of the circle, his splinted leg stretched out before him.

“Flyers, Peter. What do I know? I told you, this is your show.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s everyone’s.”

Theo paused. “Just so I understand you. You want to deliberately infect yourself with the virus, and you want me to say, Sure, go right ahead. And Hollis here wants to do the same thing, assuming you don’t die or kill all of us in the process.”

Peter felt the starkness of these terms; for the first time he wondered if he had the nerve. Theo’s question was, Peter realized, a test.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m asking you.”

Theo nodded. “Then okay.”

“That’s it? Just okay?”

“I love you, brother. If I thought I could talk you out of this, I would. But I know I can’t. I told you I was going to worry about you. I might as well start now.”

Peter turned at last to Alicia. She had removed her glasses, revealing the thrumming orange glow of her eyes, magnified to a sparkling intensity by the light of the fire. It was her consent he needed most of all; without it, he had nothing.

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “I’m sorry to say it, but yes.”

There was no reason to wait. Too much time to consider the ramifications, Peter knew, and his courage could dissolve. He led them to the empty house he had prepared-the last one, at the far end of the trace. It was little more than a shell; nearly all of the interior walls had been removed, leaving the joists exposed. The windows were already boarded up, another reason Peter had selected it-that and the fact that it was farthest away. Hollis took up the ropes Peter had moved from the barn; Michael and Greer carried a mattress from one of the adjacent houses. Somebody had brought the lantern. While Hollis tied the ropes to the joists, Peter stripped to the waist and lay down on his back. He was suddenly very nervous, his awareness of everything around him almost painfully vivid, his heart beating very quickly in his chest. He raised his eyes to Greer. A silent bargain, struck between them: if it comes to that, don’t hesitate.

Hollis finished tying the ropes to his arms and legs, leaving Peter spread-eagled on the floor. The mattress smelled like mice. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

“Sara, do it now.”

She was cradling the box with the virus; in her other hand was one of the syringes, still sealed in plastic. Peter could see that her hands were trembling.